Not a bad morning. Overcast. Guess it's deciding whether to go backwards to the terrarium motif of summer or forward to the crispy ambience of impending autumn. I'll be buying firewood soon
-- far enough in advance of actual fireplace weather to make sure that any green wood will have a chance to
dry out. By December we'll have campouts in the backyard.
Stumbled to the garage and set up the weights for the workout. It's a new
routine that I'm still getting used to. I'd like to get through it more quickly, but thanks to my minimalist
setup (example: saw horses for a squat rack), it takes longer than I'd like to move from exercise to
exercise. It's OK for now, I guess. Gives my heartrate a chance to come down a bit and the stars and spots
to dissapate. Order matters. Running less. Lifting more. Eating often:
beef, tuna, eggs,
chicken, pasta. Repeat. It must be working. Had to get my first XXL t-shirt. Ass and thighs pushing the envelope of
jeans but do not yet require vise grips to assist in zipping and buttoning.
Everyone left for school or work by the time I was done. I had the house to myself. A situation rarely
seen in nature. It is on the Endangered Species
List for Working Families. I peeled off my clothes, shrinkwrapped by sweat, Houdini-ed
from a straitjacket (sweatjacket?) of my
own creation. Naked, I walked to the pool. Dove in. Went for a swim. Yes -- it
felt terrific. Got out. Dried off. Took a hose shower on the lawn. Thought for a second about shaving, but with the post-workout shakes
decided against it.
Protein shake. Get dressed. Collect a sack of food for the day. Pour coffee into the travel mug. Pet my
90-year-old lactose-intolerant cat. Make sure she's happy and
content. Open the front door and look around at the expectant quiet. Ghosts of
hours past still echoing. Returning.
Shut the front door. Walkway to sidewalk to driveway. Live oaks combing the sun
into fog-filled straws. Pull in to the stream of static. Holding on to the
morning as I drive away.